


A helping Hand

by teddy_thegray



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 07:14:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15680577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddy_thegray/pseuds/teddy_thegray
Summary: Russell is a loner. Everyone knows that.But people around the Commonwealth also know, that he's pretty handy with a lot of things.The only question remaining is:"Is it worth to step into his comfort zone to ask for a favor?"





	A helping Hand

Russell’s ribs hurt when he came through the gates of Goodneighbor. A mutant hound had rammed its big head into his side near the Big John’s Salvage junkyard. He hissed when a merchant, who was heading for the gate Russell just passed, ran into him. The fierce look the former soldier flashed the poor guy made him apologize and rush out of town quicker than he possibly intended. 

Daisy was leaning on her counter when her favorite pre-war relic walked into her shop: “Hello darling, what can I do for you today?” Her voice was warm and soft but she saw that Russell was obviously in pain. “Got into trouble again?” 

With a grunt he dropped his backpack behind the counter and peeled himself out of his armor pieces. “Fucking mutant hound jumped me…” Through gritted teeth he asked her to get a stimpak and some bandages from his bag.  

The ghoul woman helped to patch him up. Before he turned to leave again she asked: “Are you staying a bit this time? I think Rufus wanted to ask you for a favor… something broken at the Rexford he said.”

While walking out of the little shop Russell replied: “Asking is for free… denying too. Thanks Daisy. See you later.” He left his backpack and armor with the trustful ghoul, Daisy already knew that he would probably just come and grab it without saying goodbye, like many times before.

 

On his short way to the Third Rail Russell lit a cigarette and avoided all eye contact. All he needed now was a strong drink and some of Magnolia’s songs. Too many people already greeted him, for the love of God, it was just a short walk to the bar in the subway, where did all these folks come from? Since everyone knew that Russell wasn’t the kindest person roaming the Commonwealth, he was well aware of that and he didn’t bother. Especially not when he wanted to be left alone anyway. 

Ham just let out two women and held the door open for Russell. The bouncer of the bar knew the look on his face, it meant ‘do not talk to me or I might punch you’ - but Ham didn’t care: “Bad day huh? Bet Charlie’s got some good stuff that can take your edge off…”

Still not in the mood for any smalltalk he just walked past the ghoul without any attempt to reply. With his cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth he made his way down the stairs, towards the music, towards the ‘good stuff that could take his edge off’ - but also towards people. Down in the busy bar he waited in a shady corner at the bottom of the stairs to finish his cigarette for once, but also to see who else was there that could eventually get in his way. 

The moment he was sure that no familiar faces were here too he made his way over to the bar and sat down on one of the stools. Whitechapel hovered over and cleaned up the counter before he asked Russell what he wanted to drink. 

“Something strong. Make it a double…” Russell grumbled and pulled out his pack of cigarettes and his rusted flip lighter. Charlie placed the glass with a gold brown looking liquid in front of his customer.

“Anything else I can get you?” The robot snarled and wiped the counter some more.

“Just keep ‘em coming.” Russell said while he looked down into his drink. He should probably go and get a room at the Rexford since he hasn’t slept for 3 days - not properly at least. With a sigh he lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip.

 

At his third glass he noticed that no one approached him so far, not even MacCready who was sitting on the other end of the bar with a beer. Ham must have warned him. Magnolia entered the stage and welcomed the guests before her voice sent shivers up Russell’s spine. Not even before the war he had seen a performer like her, Magnolia was one reason he preferred the Third Rail in Goodneighbor over the Dugout Inn in Diamond City. The song she began to sing reminded him off his former favorite baseball stadium:

 

_ Took a walk out in the Fens _

_ Had a talk with a man about some chems _

_ He asked me "what's your flavor?" _

_ I said "I need a favor _

_ I'm a little short of caps _

_ But I'm a good, good neighbor" _

 

“I said ‘I need a favor’ Russell.” The male voice behind him pulled him out of his thoughts. “Ham said you were in a bad mood. But you have to -”

The piercing look Russell had on his face as he turned around  cut off Rufus Rubins, who was standing behind him with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Another sigh from the pre-war man.

“I don’t have to do anything.” Russell responded and emptied his glass. He paid his tab and got up from his stool, firmly demanding to Rufus: “Get out of my way.”

The repairman didn’t make any attempt to move aside. Russell was aware that Rufus knew he would not start trouble at the bar. Not again. 

“Make me.” the wastelander smirked.

“Rufus, fuck off. I’m tired.” Russell muttered and rubbed his forehead and temples with one hand. “Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”

Now it was Rufus who sighed and nodded. He took a step aside and let Russell walk away.

“Don’t forget about me, ok?!” he called out as the other man was already walking up the stairs.  

 

The morning after, the over 200 year old booze didn’t do any good for Russell. Never. He rubbed his eyes and pulled open the curtain behind him. The bright sunlight streaming into his room made him groan in pain. ‘Yes, very well hung over, good job mister.’ he cursed himself because he knew better than to drink too much from the shit the Mister Handy poured in the glasses after his customers had enough to not notice the difference anymore.

With his arm covering his eyes from the light he lay there for a while longer and tried to remember bits and pieces of the last night. Since he only felt the aching pain pounding in his head he was sure there was no fight, which was good, because the neighborhood watch already had an eye on him since the last time he caused trouble at the bar. 

‘I need a favor’ - now it came back. Rufus talked to him about something he needed help with. Probably something technical, the generator of the hotel or maybe some water pump. It was always either one of those things, or someone couldn’t wipe their ass themselves. Preston always said Russell should cut the people some slack, maybe he was right, those idiots just didn’t know better. On the other hand, a no was a no, just like it was in two-thousand-fucking-seventy-seven.

A loud, firm knocking on the door pulled him out of his thoughts. He wasn’t ready to face anyone yet, so he simply ignored the second and third knocking as well as the first.

“Russell? Hello? I know you’re still in there. ” - it was Rufus on the other side. “Russell?”

He groaned and swung his legs out of bed. Russell rubbed his temples and took a deep breath. Just don't shrug him off too harsh, he thought. The pre-war soldier slid into his combat pants and opened the door that gave a rusty squeak to its best.    
“What?” Russell asked, harsher than he intended too - damn, he’d never be not annoyed by these wastelanders. “- Rufus, you’re early…”

“It’s past nine…” the man replied and quickly realised that the guy he was talking to didn’t have a good night. “Uhm, yeah… about the favor… the generator in the hotel is broken, we tried to fix it ourselves… but you know… you’re way more skilled with those things.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- to be continued?


End file.
